


The one where Zayn can't stop acting like Harry's Boyfriend

by shuttermutt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental boyfriends, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 04:44:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuttermutt/pseuds/shuttermutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>So the thing is, Zayn sometimes forgets he’s not actually Harry’s boyfriend. It’s not a big deal or anything.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The one where Zayn can't stop acting like Harry's Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for everything in advance. There is so much shame right now. I had to add their _names_ to my Word dictionary /o\\. I hate everything, how is this my life. Also, this is super focused, so the other boys are just kind of side-characters. Sorry if that bothers anyone :(
> 
> For [disarm_d](http://archiveofourown.org/users/disarm_d/pseuds/disarm_d) because she knows why. It's not 30,000 but, y'know, it's what I got done tonight, so.

So the thing is, Zayn sometimes forgets he’s not actually Harry’s boyfriend. It’s not a big deal or anything, but it is sort of inconvenient. They’ll be standing together while being interviewed at some event or another and he’ll put his hand around Harry’s waist, smooth his hand up and down his side and he won’t even notice it. Harry never seems to mind—he leans into the touch or into Zayn’s side and keeps answering whatever question he’s been proffered. It’s only when they have to move on that Zayn even realises he’s done it in the first place.

Harry either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, so Zayn forgets to check himself. He just pulls Harry down onto his lap when the interview couches are too small and holds him around his waist and Harry leans back into his chest. He curls his hand around Harry’s hip when they’re standing around together, runs his fingers over the sharp jut of bone. He only realises after he’s done it that he’s brushed Harry’s bangs away from his eyes.

Louis laughs openly and loudly at him for five whole minutes when he presses his nose to Harry’s in an Eskimo kiss. Zayn flushes a bit, laughing and scratching at the back of his head awkwardly. It’s so easy to get lost in Harry, to not even realise what he’s doing is probably not what mates do with each other _unless_ they’re dating. 

So, it’s not a big deal, really. Besides the occasional teasing he gets from the lads over it, it doesn’t _hurt_ him. And Harry doesn’t seem too bothered by it, so Zayn doesn’t stop to think about his moves before he makes them. It’s not entirely his fault.

-

Zayn wakes up slowly. He’s in his hotel room and they’ve got what feels like the only day off they’ve ever had in his entire life. No radio shows, no interviews, no photo shoots. No concert, even, until tomorrow night. So he lets himself wake up as slowly as he wants and stretches, luxuriating in not having an alarm blaring, or Paul calling him about being late. It’s not until he tries to roll over that he realises that he’s got a Harry attached to him.

“Oh,” he says softly, letting his arms come back down. One of them falls over Harry’s shoulders, like it belongs right there.

Harry has his arms wrapped around Zayn’s waist, nose pressed up against his side, surprisingly wearing boxers. Zayn wonders how he missed this, upon waking up. Then he stops wondering, because Harry feels so natural, pressed up against him, that it’s no wonder. His body forgets that Harry isn’t just a part of him.

“Hey,” he says. He strokes one finger down Harry’s nose, grinning when it wrinkles and Harry’s brows furrow. “Wake up, babe.”

“M’n’gna,” Harry says, pressing closer to Zayn. He looks so cranky to have been disturbed; it’s possibly the best thing Zayn has ever seen in his whole life. 

“Hazza, I need to take a piss. Get off before I pee on you.” 

Harry finally opens his eyes only to glare. “You’re the worst.” His voice is deeper than usual and raspy from disuse. Zayn honestly just can’t get enough of him. Harry lets go of him, though, which is both disappointing and for the best. He really does have to piss. 

As soon as Zayn gets up, Harry rolls into the warm spot in the middle of the bed and curls up. He presses his face into Zayn’s pillow and snuffles a few times before seemingly falling back asleep. Zayn goes to the bathroom to take care of himself and brush his teeth. When he gets back out, Harry’s on his stomach and snoring softly. Zayn grins and pulls the duvet up to cover him. He can’t help but let his fingers brush over Harry’s cheek, pink and creased from the pillowcase. Zayn honestly doesn’t even know what he’s going to do with Harry and his stupid, charming face. 

“I’m going to get breakfast. I’ll be back in a few,” he tells Harry, even though Harry is out. It feels rude not saying something. Harry snores at him a few times and Zayn takes that as his answer.

-

When Zayn gets back from the breakfast bar and a quick swing past the gym to say hello to Paul, Harry is up and Louis is sitting next to him on the bed. Harry’s _up_ , but his hair is everywhere and he still looks like he’s half-asleep. Louis is grinning and poking him in the belly, laughing when Harry swats at him ineffectually.

“Leave him alone, Lou,” Zayn says, shutting the door behind him. He’s sure Niall and Liam will show up sooner or later—even on days off they can’t seem to not congregate together. It’s charming. “I brought you some tea and a muffin, sweetheart.”

Harry makes grabby hands at the take-out cup Zayn is holding. He looks like a little kid when he’s sleep-rumpled and quiet like this. It’s enough to break Zayn’s heart, honestly. “Thanks,” Harry says, taking the lid off his tea and blowing across a few times before taking a sip. He winces at the heat but keeps drinking anyways. Zayn puts the bag with the muffin down on the bed next to him and then crawls up so he can sit with his back to the headboard and check his phone.

“You two are so sickeningly sweet,” Louis says, making faces at Harry and trying to steal his cup. Harry smacks his hands away any time he comes near. “You’re like the perfect couple, after Liam and Danielle.”

“Shut up,” Harry says. He hands the cup over and then lies back on the bed. His head ends up on Zayn’s thigh and Zayn absentmindedly plays with his hair while he scrolls through his phone one-handed.

“Ugh,” Louis says. “I think I’ll be sick.”

Harry flips him off and closes his eyes, hands resting on his belly. “You know how sweet I take my tea. I don’t know why you’re acting surprised now.”

Louis just laughs until he spills the drink on the carpet and Zayn has to yell at him.

-

When Harry gets drunk, he gets a bit handsy. To be completely fair, they _all_ get a bit handsy, but Harry is definitely the worst. He crowds Zayn against a wall in the shitty club they’re in and presses his whole body against him. His hands go somewhere in the vicinity of Zayn’s hips and his feet get tangled in Zayn’s and it’s just a complete, utter mess. A tragic mess, even.

Or, well, it would be if Zayn minded. He doesn’t. He just hooks his arm over Harry’s shoulder and rubs the back of his neck with his thumb in a slow sweep. Harry closes his eyes and presses his head against Zayn’s chest and inhales a few times.

“I’m drunk,” he says. He’s got a beer pressed against Zayn’s leg. It’s sweating all over his pants but Zayn doesn’t care.

“I know, babe,” he says instead. “You wanna go back to the hotel, then?” 

Harry shakes his head, but it’s more like he’s just rubbing his face against Zayn’s chest. “Wanna stay with you,” he says. He sounds a bit weepy, like he might cry if Zayn suggests leaving him at all. Zayn would never do that.

Zayn moves his thumb so it’s rubbing behind Harry’s ear and it seems to comfort him some. “You can be with me if we go to the hotel together,” he explains, being quite patient for not being one hundred percent sober, himself. He’s nowhere near Harry’s levels of drunk, but he’s had a few beers tonight. Zayn’ll put up with Harry being a maudlin drunk at any level of sobriety, though, he knows.

“Yeah, alright.” Harry refuses to walk two steps away from Zayn as they make their way to the front door and he makes sad faces when Zayn has to pull away to ask Paul to send them a car. “You’re so far away,” he says, face crumpled.

“I’m right here,” Zayn tells him. He holds Harry’s hand as they wait by the curb for their car and then holds his hair back when Harry leans over and throws up. Harry makes the most pathetic face as he wipes his mouth and Zayn just rubs his back. “I know, babe. We’ll get you to bed and you can sleep it off, okay?”

Harry leans against him, puts his head on Zayn’s shoulder, mumbles, “’kay.” Zayn doesn’t even mind that he smells like sour beer and stomach acid. 

-

Zayn gets Harry up to his room, rubs his back when he throws up for the second time in the toilet, then hands him a glass of water. Harry rinses his mouth out then spits in the sink and Zayn is ready with his toothbrush. Harry leans against him as he brushes his teeth, looking tragic and despondent, still. He spits the froth out and rinses his mouth again, then stares at Zayn with his ridiculous big eyes and even more ridiculous sad face. 

“You poor thing,” Zayn says. He smiles just a little bit, because Harry is so pathetic, sometimes. He makes Harry drink two and a half glasses of water, even though he wines, because he would regret it more in the morning if he didn’t. 

“I hate everything,” Harry tells him. 

He’s pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, like he might still be a bit weepy over nothing. Zayn takes his hands away from his face and leads him back to the bed. He toes off his shoes, gets rid of his jeans and shirt. The duvet is already pulled back, so he slips in and sits against the headboard. Harry pushes his shirt and cardigan off and tries to take his trousers off before his shoes, which leads to a lot of grumbling. He finally gets down to his pants and crawls into the bed after Zayn, curling up around his legs and putting his head on Zayn’s lap. It can’t be comfortable, the way he’s curled like that, but he doesn’t complain.

Zayn starts to run his fingers through Harry’s hair, avoiding the tangles and knots. He sings a soft lullaby that his older sister used to sing for their little sister. It’s slow and soothing and after a few measures, Harry is asleep, mouthing at the leg of Zayn’s pants and drooling. It’s gross and ridiculous and so, so charming. Zayn puts his head back against the headboard and closes his eyes, even though he knows if he sleeps like this he’ll get a crick in his neck and he’ll hate himself in the morning.

Harry makes a soft noise in his sleep and Zayn smiles.

-

Shows are always amazing, for the five of them. They’re so in sync and they play off each other so well that it should be impossible. It should feel staged but it doesn’t, because it’s just _them_. Them belting the words out and showing the audience the hearts on their sleeves. Zayn feels high on the energy from the crowd, knows the boys feel it, too.

During the Twitter Q&A, someone asks who everyone is in a relationship with and Zayn groans inwardly. They answer this question every other interview—why should they have to do it now? But Liam is grinning and saying he’s got a girlfriend and he looks so stupidly in love that Zayn grins back at him, reaches over to ruffle his hair. Louis says he’s involved and Niall says his one true love is chips, which makes the audience laugh. Zayn is ready to open his mouth, but Louis beats him to the punch.

“Harry and Zayn are in a loving relationship together. You should see them, they’re totally precious. Sweet enough to rot your teeth.” He’s grinning, the twat, eyes playful.

The audience goes wild and Harry laughs. He’s on the arm of the couch next to Zayn, so he leans down until he’s got his head on Zayn’s shoulder. If it’s possible, the screaming doubles. Harry looks up at Zayn from his lashes, the look he makes when he’s trying to pull some girl way out of his league and Zayn’s insides do something squirmy and weird.

“They’ll be adopting babies, next,” Louis says, still grinning like a loon.

Harry stays pressed against him like that for the rest of the Q&A, moving his mic up to Zayn’s mouth whenever he wants to talk so Zayn doesn’t have to use his own. Zayn’s pretty sure the internet is going to crash because of them.

-

Zayn misses out on his shower because he was out with the fans signing stuff. He’ll never get used to the way they just _scream_ when they see him. Or the way some of the younger girls burst into tears when he smiles at them. It’s sort of crazy, but sort of awesome at the same time.

He has to sit in the back row of the van, though, because the others have ostracised him for smelling rank. He laughs and rolls his eyes and threatens to wrap his arms around Liam and Niall so they’ll stink just as bad as he does, but they fight him off. Harry frowns and shoves into the back with Zayn.

“You don’t stink,” he says, pressing his face against Zayn’s neck and inhaling deeply. “You smell like you.”

“You’re a doll,” Zayn says. He wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulders and pulls him in. There’s no way he doesn’t stink—he changed from his tour clothes as soon as he got off-stage, and it was super humid outside, so he’d sweated through his shirt for at least half an hour. 

Harry frowns and wraps his arms around Zayn’s neck, stubborn. 

Niall, turning around in his seat to say something to them, stops. He gets a dopey grin on his face and he just sort of peers at them for a long time before saying, “You two are the sweetest. Honest.”

It makes Zayn smile, pull Harry in closer to his side.

-

“I’m gonna take a bath,” Zayn calls out, heading to the bathroom as soon as they’re back in their room. They’ve got a really large Jacuzzi-style tub in their suite for some reason, and Zayn’s been itching to try it. He starts the taps, plugs up the drain and pours in some of whatever the complimentary bath fragrance is. He doesn’t care if the lads tease him for liking to take baths; it’s relaxing as hell and helps him unwind better than pretty much anything.

He gets his kit off and gets into the tub when it’s half full. The hot water immediately starts to relax his tight muscles and he sighs, leaning back against the side. His toes just touch the other side when he stretches out fully. He turns the tub off when the water is up to his chest.

The door opens and Harry pokes his head in, frowning. “Can I join?” he asks, sounding shy, like they haven’t had to share showers before. 

Zayn grins and shrugs. “You get smelly again after rubbing against me in the car?”

Harry makes a face and shrugs back. “Maybe. Can I?” 

“’Course.”

He gets naked quickly and Zayn looks, because why shouldn’t he? Harry’s fit and Zayn likes looking at fit people. He’s not shy about being naked, either, so Zayn doesn’t feel like he should be embarrassed to look at him. Harry climbs into the tub and sits with his back pressed against Zayn’s chest. He draws his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on top of them, but lets his arms float next to Zayn’s.

They’ve skinny dipped in Harry’s pool together—Zayn staying firmly in the shallow end—and they’ve showered together countless times, so this isn’t _really_ different. The water is warm and cloudy from the bath soap and when Harry lets his legs go down in the water, Zayn can’t see anything. Harry lets himself relax, head lying back on Zayn’s shoulder, fingers drifting to twist with Zayn’s. 

Zayn nudges Harry’s cheek with his nose until Harry turns to look at him a little more. He presses a kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth and Harry smiles a little, licks his lips because it’s a habit. He leans up to kiss Zayn on the mouth and his lips are soft and the slightest bit wet from his tongue.

They trade sleepy, soft kisses for a while. Just a friendly snog between mates until the water gets cold and Harry’s fingers get wrinkled. Then Zayn gets them out and the tub drained, and wraps Harry in a towel and brings him to bed. They fall asleep tangled together, sheets damp from fragrant bathwater.

-

The next morning, Harry catches his hand as they walk to breakfast. Zayn catches himself rubbing his thumb back and forth across Harry’s knuckles but when he stops, Harry makes such a pathetically sad face that Zayn picks it up again. 

Louis coos at them and Niall makes that dopey face again while Liam rolls his eyes and has to pretend he’s not smiling.

“You two are ridiculous,” he tells them, trying to sound stern but failing horribly.

Harry sticks his tongue out at him. “You’re just jealous.” Zayn grins at him and bumps their hips together. 

He tucks his fingers in the pocket of Harry’s trousers as they walk out of the hotel and into a crowd of fans.

-

Zayn kips off for a smoke when they get to the next venue. He’s hanging out by the dumpsters because it’s so offensive smelling that none of the fans are near the fence trying to snap pictures of him. Of course, it smells like dumpsters, so no one else is hanging around, either. 

“Hey,” Harry says, shuffling into view. Zayn isn’t even sure how he found him out here.

“Hey,” Zayn says. He blows smoke up and away from Harry as he says it. Sometimes he feels like a dragon when he does it.

Harry moves so that he’s standing toe-to-toe with Zayn. He puts his hand on Zayn’s shoulder and leans so that he can put his head on Zayn’s free one. Zayn puts his free hand against Harry’s back, rubbing in long circles.

“What’s up, babe?”

“Missed you.” Harry huffs a sigh and his breath blows against Zayn’s neck.

Zayn takes another pull from his cigarette and leaves it in the corner of his mouth so he can wrap his other arm around Harry as well. They stay standing like that while Zayn sucks at his cigarette and blows the smoke out of the other side of his mouth, until he’s down to the filter and he just turns his head, lets it drop to the ground.

As soon as his smoke is gone, Harry moves his head so that his nose is bumping against Zayn’s, like another Eskimo kiss. But then he’s pressing his mouth against Zayn’s, licking the seam of his lips until Zayn opens up. He’s almost shy, then, tongue pressing against Zayn’s for a beat before pulling back. Zayn goes after him, though, licks into his mouth and sucks on his tongue until Harry makes this noise that’s halfway between a whimper and a whine. It makes warmth curl at the base of Zayn’s stomach.

When they pull away from each other, they’re both breathing heavier and the tops of Harry’s cheeks are red. Zayn curls his fingers in the shorthairs at Harry’s neck and presses his forehead against Harry’s. He closes his eyes and just sort of breathes Harry in for a few moments before he pulls away, grabbing Harry’s hand and curls their fingers together before it can fall to his side.

“Let’s go in, yeah? Sound check’s in a few.” 

Harry squeezes his hand and nods.

-

They get back to the hotel late and Zayn is the one pressing Harry against the wall, this time. Their hips are slotted together and they’re kissing easily, no rush. Zayn’s half-hard and he can feel Harry against his leg in the same state.

“You’re gorgeous,” Zayn says when they pull apart. Harry’s lips are swollen and red and he’s flushed and eager and so keen for this and it makes Zayn feel a bit crazy. “Fucking gorgeous.” 

Harry smiles and ducks his head. “You trying to pull me, Zayn Malik?” he asks, trying to sound unaffected. He’s in no way unaffected, Zayn knows.

“Maybe I am. That be okay with you?” 

“Yeah, I think that’d be okay.”

“Good.”

Zayn pulls Harry to the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes. Harry’s already getting his kit off as quickly as he possibly can as he stumbles after Zayn. He ends up on his back, spread out on the bed, pants halfway down his hips. Zayn helps him get them all the way off, then just sits back and admires for a bit. 

There’s nothing new about Harry being naked, but it is definitely new to have him naked and aroused and waiting for Zayn to do something about it. It’s heady. Zayn runs the pads of his fingers down Harry’s sides, over his hip bones and thighs. Harry shivers under his touch, arches up even though Zayn isn’t near his prick. 

“C’mon,” he says, voice deeper than usual and a little rusty, like he’s been sleeping for too long. He bites his lip runs his foot up and down Zayn’s calf.

“Yeah, yes,” Zayn tells him, feeling impatient as well. He drops his pants and moves on top of Harry, so they’re both pressed up against each other and trapped between their stomachs. Harry is hard and hot against him and Zayn almost wants to weep. He presses his hand between them, instead, and rubs his thumb against the head of his own cock, collecting the pre-come and spreading it down both of them. 

Harry makes another one of those noises that go straight to Zayn’s cock and thrusts up into his touch. He looks desperate around the eyes and when Zayn takes his hand away, he ruts up like he can’t control it. It’s hot and frantic and Zayn is already leaking, making the slide easier. It’s still not as wet as it would be if either one of them had had patience for lube, so Zayn spits in his hand, fists Harry and strokes him until he’s wet and shivering.

“Fuck,” Harry says, squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck, yeah, _please_ , Zayn,” he begs. 

Zayn fists both of them together and it’s wet and a little sticky from pre-come and awkward as fuck, but it feels so good, pressed against Harry like this. Harry’s hips keep twitching up because he can’t control himself and that’s so sexy, to Zayn. He leans down and puts his mouth low against Harry’s neck, where it meets his shoulder and he bites down, can’t help himself. Harry grunts and his hips press up and he comes suddenly over Zayn’s fist. It makes everything a lot more wet, makes the slide easier and Zayn let’s Harry’s cock go, just fucks his fist until he comes all over Harry’s belly and dick.

“Oh,” Harry says softly, looking down at himself when Zayn falls onto the bed beside him. “You came on me.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Zayn says, even though he isn’t very sorry. Just looking at the mess he’s made makes his cock twitch a little bit, like it could be interested in a few minutes. 

Harry runs his fingers through the mess on his stomach and Zayn thinks it might not take a few minutes at all. “It’s okay,” he says. “We can do that again, yeah?”

“However many times you want, babe,” Zayn tells him, leaning over to press kisses against Harry’s neck and jaw and mouth.

“Okay,” Harry says between kisses. “Good.”

-

Zayn still catches himself walking with his hand in Harry’s back pocket, or brushing his hair away from his face, or picking up an extra biscuit or two from catering whenever he passes by. Only, it’s not behaviour he has to correct, because Harry totally _is_ his boyfriend, now.


End file.
